


try to picture him in my minds eye (say goodbye)

by Tandirra



Series: Young Loki Series [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: All Magic Comes With a Price, Bad Communication, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Gen, aka blatent theme stealing sorry kieron gillen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandirra/pseuds/Tandirra
Summary: Months after returning from space, Loki's choices catch up to him.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: Young Loki Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676509
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	try to picture him in my minds eye (say goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> You could call this both a tentative sequel to my last story and a prequel to another longer work. Of course that depends on the general trajectory of OUR world as well as interest in this world without direct influence from Ikol/Loki. Whatever happens, I'm done debating myself over this thing and am just going to take the leap to put it out there.

Loki watched the falconers work with their birds from the safety of his solitary balcony. According to Thor it was an old tradition, one they’d all but lost in the wake of all that happened after Hela and Asgard’s destruction. Now this new generation worked clumsily with clever yet unfamiliar Midgardian hawks.

One raptor’s red feathers cast long shadows over the hot midday sun. Perched at their level, Loki could see the bird’s sharp eyes glint at the beck of their partner’s call before they tucked in their wings and plummeted to the earth. Just in time, their wings spread wide and sunk their claws into the hardened leather of the Asgardian gloves.

It looked fun. Something Loki might enjoy. After all, he  _ was  _ only a boy. And what boy wouldn’t want a clever little pet with honed and wicked claws? He’d considered asking Thor if he could try it. He’d also considered forgoing Thor’s permission altogether.

But he’d never committed to any path. He could pretend his reasons were many, but the truth remained simple. He was afraid. Afraid it would come too naturally, that he’d raise questions. Afraid it wouldn’t, that when the time came whatever familiarity he’d garnered with the ghost he’d pulled from his head would pale in comparison to the startling substance of the real thing.

Ikol, the Loki who was, had gone. He’d found something like peace, so it seemed. Besides, the world only had room for one Loki. Without him, Loki could begin anew.

But he was no longer so certain. It wasn’t just Ikol’s mistakes that haunted him now, but his own. And to make it worse, he felt more alone than ever. Though of course he wasn’t. He had more than his former. The Guardians, only a call away. Thor, even closer than that. Friends both in and beyond New Asgard. It was selfish of him to think himself alone. 

“Well, maybe I am.” He was Loki, after all, and for it never satisfied. Mumbling to himself, Loki moved from the window back to the last solid piece of his former self he had left: the spells that had been left to him. His true and rightful inheritance.

Despite the challenge of decoding his former’s convoluted notes, he’d remained stalwart. Each breakthrough brought him closer to reclaiming that which he deserved. To mischief too. For what good were such spells if he did not use them? Or so he rationalized. 

It had been slow, tedious work combing through nonsense, searching for meaning within the intentionally confusing scripture. During long nights with the obstinate pages he longed for some like-minded companionship.

But that was futile. No one who could help him knew of the notes. And giving out that information meant answering more questions. About their origin. Inevitably, about Ikol. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Nor was Thor. He may have finally moved past his lingering guilt over the former Loki’s life and death, and then past mixing Loki with those memories, but knowledge of Ikol was a danger to all of that. Though Ikol had been but a simulacrum in Loki’s head, he had been and was no longer. And, again, Thor had gotten no goodbye.

Struck by long periods of loneliness, Loki understood more than ever the sweetness of goodbyes. And how often fate had denied them for the brothers. It hadn’t been fate this time, but Loki and Ikol. Ikol, who had known what he wanted and what would be best for Loki, believed he knew what was best for Thor, and knew those were in conflict. And chose Loki over himself.

He had never thanked Ikol for his sacrificed goodbye. That piled with his selfishness amongst his regrets.

One day, he would have to admit it to Thor. He could only postpone his reckoning for so long.

Now though, he worked with the hand he’d dealt for himself. With Ikol and his notes a secret, Loki had to be creative in how he utilized the magic he’d gleaned from his former’s notes. Stacked up spellbooks bought from other realms, full of novice spells, fluffed his shelves. And for spells he shouldn’t know, ones too obviously complicated to come from those books, Loki hoarded them for himself.

What Thor didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Whether that meant covering the results of an ill-attempted fire spell with an illusion that did everything but eliminate the smell of burned hair, or Ikol, Loki had managed his secrets well enough.

Not that managing them cut to the source of his problems. He still wasn’t sure what could, so he settled for keeping them at bay. Only when he closed his eyes did they find him so he avoided that too.

Settling himself onto his bed, Loki flipped open Ikol’s notes. His eyes traced the hand-drawn sigils, familiar already. Imprinting them into his mind, he let his gaze trail upwards. Before him, the air shimmered as he struggled to impose his will upon the world. 

“Come on, now.” He coaxed, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “Let me see you.”

Fighting with his own piecemeal understanding, Loki forced his magicks into a shape like himself, phantasmal, just green light and intention. He frowned at the lanky shape. That wasn’t good enough. 

With a slow breath he let his eyes flutter shut and sharpened the image he held in his mind. For him, reality bent slowly, stubborn against him. But, finally, he felt it shift.

Opening his eyes showed him an almost perfect mirror. “Ah, hello.” He greeted his reflection, which mimicked his movements, though no words escaped it. He scowled and the illusion imitated, still, the intricacies of the spell escaped him.

Though he balked at lingering on his face for too long, he inspected himself in a true mirror, judging his work against reality. What he found made him wince. The Loki he saw in his mirror had darker circles under his eyes than he had anticipated. His hair was in desperate need of a wash. “Hmm.” His prettied double watched him distrustfully. Or was it the other way around?

Plucking his golden coronet from the floor, Loki weighed it between his hands. Then, rearing back, flung the ornament at his double.

As he did a high pitched buzz went off in Loki’s head and the momentary distraction cost him. His double moved too slowly, its hands hardly ready to catch the coronet that passed straight through its chest. His illusion wobbled, split, and disintegrated into light.

Loki was left scowling at an empty room, head still ringing, as his coronet clattered across the stone.

But he didn’t spare long for disappointment. Something was afoot, the alarm in his head told him that much. He’d long since learned the best way to keep an eye on the interesting things happening in New Asgard was to bug Thor’s diplomatic chambers. The spell had been one of the first Loki had deciphered and it had proved indispensable in keeping him from abject boredom. Thor hadn’t yet figured out that Loki knew the spell, so he could only be so frustrated when Loki appeared at just the right moment to hear what the next disaster would be.

Like so many secrets, this was one he’d rather Thor didn’t discover. He shuddered at the lecture that would follow if Thor learned he was being spied upon.

Careful with the manuscript, Loki tucked it into a bundle of his clothes and, on his hands and knees, shoved it deep beneath his bed. He locked his quarters with a thought and took off towards whatever awaited him.

He smiled sunnily at Thor as he slipped through the oaken door, left conveniently cracked. By Thor’s weary look, he was expected. Hiemdall’s knowing presence only confirmed that. “You arrive so punctually, young Loki,” Hiemdall’s eyes pierced, “I would almost think you were invited.”

“Perhaps I should be.” Loki countered, only meeting Hiemdall’s golden gaze in glances, wary of what the Gatekeeper might glean from him. “Clearly the Norns want me here since they put me in such proximity to notice your meeting. And it’s certainly not  _ my  _ place to deny fate.” Just briefly he thought he saw a smile crinkle Heimdall’s eyes.

“This isn’t of any interest to you, brother.” Thor sighed. “It’s just politics.”

Loki ignored Thor for the glittering display of the Eight Realms floating above the long, low table that sat at the center of the room. Currently, the projection was focused on the realm he knew to be Vanaheim. “That  _ is  _ unfortunate. But it looks to me like your gaze is turned off-realm. You know,” he clasped his hands together and looked dolefully at Thor. “I’ve never been to Vanaheim.”

His look softened his brother as he’d hoped. Though still doubt lingered behind mismatched eyes. “Maybe that’s for the best. We’re not in the best position with their tribes.”

“And why’s that?”

Thor waved a hand and the projection expanded. He cast one weary hand towards Jotunhiem. “Some  _ disagree  _ with our new direction.”

Loki frowned. “I thought we’d moved past persecuting Jotunheim for their past.” Since they’d returned the Casket of Ancient Winters Jotunheim had presented itself as a tentative ally. It had been the one thing Loki could truly feel proud about accomplishing after his journey through space. Even if it was still steeped in the lie of Ikol.

“But Vanaheim hasn’t. Jotunheim scoured their realm and many others before our father beat them back and the Vanir’s memories have not yet faded.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Loki scoffed. But he wasn’t surprised. Resentments, he’d long since learned, seemed baked into the very fabric of the world. Once they’d settled, no one escaped them.

“Politics often are.” Thor returned the projection to Vanahiem. “What do you think, Hiemdall, should he come along?”

Heimdall considered Loki’s hopeful face for a few long moments. “I see no reason he shouldn’t. You were younger than him when your father first included you in political talks.”

The pair of them shared memories Loki couldn’t grasp. Quietly, he imagined his former self among them. He would know. He’d been there. “I didn’t enjoy it much.” Thor smiled. “I was far more interested in trading blows with my friends.” Though Loki hardly heard him. Surely his former self had been included, hadn’t he? Was he as young? He struggled to imagine his former self as he was now. The Loki that had been was alternatively the looming figure or the flitting, wordy bird, he didn’t fit, in Loki’s mind, sitting at a table under the sun simply sitting and listening, a child not so unlike him.

Like the inaccurate mirror he’d conjured, glaring through him.

“How about it, then?” Thor’s hand brought him to the present.

“Ah, yes!” The image of his former self sunk into the depths of his mind as he tried for some enthusiasm. 

If Thor took note, he said nothing on it. “You must promise that you’ll listen to me. And no,” he smiled, “I will not negotiate.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Loki bat his eyes. “Safety is my  _ primary  _ concern.” When Thor held his silence he added, with an irritated wave. “You have my word. Is that what you want? I’ll not stray.”

Appeased, Thor nodded. “I expect nothing less. We’ll need to depart quickly but...” He hesitated. “You must make yourself presentable. Can you do so?” Though he mentioned no specificities, he lingered with some concern on the signs of exhaustion that hung as a shroud around Loki. “You’re representing New Asgard, after all.” Moving on, Thor eyed Loki’s mismatched combination of a Midgardian jeans and the Asgardian tunic with Loki’s symbol emblazoned upon it.

Though he knew Thor was right, Loki took the opportunity to argue. “But we live on Midgard, so aren’t we also representing-”

_ “Loki.” _

“Fine!” Loki relented easily. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Thor looked fond. “If it's any consolation, I doubt I’ll enjoy much of this either. I think these Vanir have it out for me.”

He drew a finger across his neck and, while it made Loki snicker, Hiemdall didn’t seem so amused. “Beware, treat this too lightly and the Vanir might do just that.” Before Loki could hear any more of this lecture, he escaped from the room, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Loki changed quickly, and inspected himself again. He thought of hiding the tired lines beneath his eyes with a glamour. But Thor had already seen them, and his opinion was all that mattered. His hair was a more serious matter and not one he yet had the spell to remedy. Instead he settled for a more mundane magic. A kind of magic that came from a plastic bottle, the kind made by ingenious Midgardians, that softened his attack on his stubborn knots. Victorious, he finished his look by slicking wet hands through his newly smoothed hair, which by now fell just past his ears in dark, loosely entwined coils. 

As he adjusted his golden coronet the vain ghost of his former self lingered just over his shoulder.

To dispel it he added his Guardian jacket to the ensemble and when he looked in the mirror again he saw only himself, fidgeting, growing in awkward ways, but presentable as Thor had asked.

“Come quickly,” Thor motioned when he returned. With a look Loki dared his brother to say anything about the jacket. Neither Thor nor Hiemdall did, though Thor’s lips twitched upwards before settling into an appropriate, stoic line. “Steady yourself.”

Loki took Thor’s outstretched hand and clung tight to his warmth as the Bifrost swallowed the three of them.

It dissipated as their feet touched hardened dirt and a landscape of untamed pines opened before Loki. When he could drag his eyes from the looming, jagged line of the horizon he found the long, low buildings clustered before them. It wasn’t as he had expected. Little more than a village lay before them.

“Do they not have a city? Or a seat of power?” Loki kept his hand in Thor’s as they began their way through the settlement. Heads turned from low homes and cobbled streets to stare, incredulous.

Thor kept his focus on their destination, the largest of the homely buildings, something Loki could, generously, call a keep. “The Vanir have separated themselves into many houses of power, it’s what makes dealing with them so difficult. Just because one tribe agrees with does not mean the rest will. But they all have a voice in the direction of their people, so if there is too much dissent against us- that is where our problems begin.”

“How many of them… disagree with us?”

There was a grim look in Thor’s blue eye. “Enough.”

Loki let his eyes fall, though despite his unease they didn’t stay there for long. There was simply too much to see. Trailing plumes of smoke rose from the smokestacks of nearly every home, filling the air with warmth. There was magic in the air unlike any he’d ever felt on New Asgard and he saw it in the lives of the people, clothes being wrung out by nothing, flowers in gardens blooming more voraciously than any hand could coax. He fell a few steps behind Thor whose stride was far too long for his liking. If only he could slip away, see what he needed. Though he knew he shouldn’t, there was so much on offering he couldn't help but be tempted.

He bit his tongue on the questions that sprang to mind. Had Asgard been like this? Unless he wanted to bring that old sadness back to Thor’s eyes, though, it was better for both of them if he just remained silently curious.

But perhaps Heimdall had been watching his head swivel, because the Gatekeeper slowed to walk beside him and, with a small, sad smile, spoke. “Despite what you have seen, magic was once as much a part of Asgard as it is on this and other realms. We lost much of our knowledge with our realm but I do not doubt that one day, under the right tutelage, magic will again flourish amongst our people.” 

The weight of his gaze fell solely upon Loki, who flushed, equal parts delighted and flustered by his answer to the unasked question. “You have high hopes.”

“I see no reason why I shouldn’t.” With a last, more wry look, Heimdall returned to Thor’s side, leaving Loki with his expectations.

He stewed over them as they traveled from the streets into a long, low building of wood and stone. Wordlessly, Thor summoned him close again as armed Vanir stood at attention. The guards ushered them through the halls into what was clearly a throne room. 

At the end of the low ceilinged room was an elaborately carved, dark throne. Loki could see the heads of snarling wolves and the wings of hunting raptors flitting between the proud, straight pines.

Though he didn’t have time to be impressed by the woodwork as the woman upon it rose to a stand. Her hair was more grey than brown, though the remnants of color remained in dull streaks. She spared only a moment for Loki before her lined, grey eyes settled upon Thor. The two of them stood as opposing pillars.

“Welcome, Asgardians, to our home.” Her voice was full of age and gravel.

“Agathe,” Thor inclined his head, “I’m glad you’ll have us.”

The Vanir woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her clever eyes. “Come.” With their approach her smile grew. “Finally its the Asgardians who must bend to our will, we spent far too long on one knee for Odin.”

“I agree.” Thor leapt at the chance for empathy. “My father made many mistakes, Vanaheim’s treatment among them.”

“Aye, that it was.” And for a moment Thor relaxed. “But he was not a man of only mistakes. His culling of the Frost Giants,” Loki winced at the verbiage, “Was not among them and now I hear that you’re setting out to reverse it. The Jotnar ravaged our realm and many others, including the one your people have settled upon. How am I to take your alliance with them as anything but willful disrespect?”

With Agathe’s accusation the atmosphere in the room shifted. Thor cast a sidelong glance Loki’s way before setting his jaw and returning himself to Agathe. “I understand your anger and your distrust. Once I even agreed. But the time where I could trick myself into believing its right to punish the Jotnar for the actions of their past generations has passed. It is  _ unjust _ . We have to give them the opportunity to change. I think, if you’d let it, that thought might come to you as well.”

“How easy it must be for you to cast judgement upon a war you never fought in.” Her gaze shifted to Loki. It was sharp and tore through him, as if she were searching for someone else. “You seem to have luck finding easy ways to bury the past.”

The air hummed. “Agathe, you’re a wise woman, but you shouldn’t speak on things of which you have no authority.” Thor’s anger rumbled through his voice but with Hiemdall at his shoulder he kept a cool head.

But Loki eyed the exit. Clearly he was a distraction that could be weaponized and he refused to be a tool in the hands of others. “Thor,” he tugged on his brother’s arm, “I think I should be excused.

“Are you sure?” Thor’s anger turned to concern as he lowered his voice. “You can’t let them scare you.”

“I’ve seen scarier things than this.” Though the woman was undeniably intimidating. “I think… you’d fare better if I wasn’t here.” When Thor frowned at him he stood his ground, shaking his head. “Besides, it’d be much more fun to explore this town that stand here.” It was a good enough excuse, he thought.

With a sigh, Thor straightened again. “I see now this will not be a discussion fit for children. Can you guarantee that my brother does not find trouble?”

After a long consideration of them both, Agathe nodded. “We are not savages. None of my guards would hurt a child, Thor, king of Asgard.” With a wave of her hand one of her silent guards led Loki from the room. 

Even as he left, dragging his feet, Thor and Agathe sparred. “What of your lies? You told no one about this meeting with the Jotnar because you knew we would disagree.”

“I am not a liar. I told the realms as soon as peace talks were finalized.” Thor was right about that, there was only one born liar in the family.

The guards deposited him outside the keep with a warning not to stray too far. He didn’t, ending up in a low walled garden. On the other side of the stone, Vanir carried on with their lives as if he wasn’t there. There was comfort in the anonymity. 

Not that it did much to ease his mind as he listlessly followed the cobbled path, hopping from stone to stone.

Within his small circle he was safe to assume the past could be forgotten. Be forgiven. But when he emerged from it he was all too quickly reminded how others felt. It was why he’d yet to take Thor up on his offers to visit with the Avengers despite Thor’s reassurances that they would come around. 

Attracted by the syrupy smell of nectar, insects buzzed around a creeping vine, heavy with long stemmed flowers. Loki followed them, sinking slightly into the muddy ground. He plucked one of the delicate white flowers from the vine and tried not to let his mind stray to Agathe’s words.

He failed. They followed him. Like her eyes. He had to wonder if she knew him. Or knew a Loki. Or maybe she’d just heard the stories. Whatever they were. Ikol would’ve known.

“Hey!” A voice Loki didn’t recognize called out to him from across the wall. He stood to find it and saw three Vanir men leaning against the stone, eyeing him. Loki immediately noted the calculating look in their, it made him shiver. The man closest to him spoke again. “You’re with the Asgardians, right? Heard you used to be the king’s brother. That true?”

Loki felt heat rise to his face. “Sorry, I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.” 

The Vanir scowled at his spiteful compliance. “Come here.”

“No, thank you.” It only took a quick look to see that the guards which had deposited Loki in the garden had gone, leaving him alone with only those on the street. And no one took any note of him. Keeping his eyes on the Vanir, he took a step towards the keep. His boots slid in the mud.

As he stumbled, the Vanir exchanged a quick command and their leader darted over the low barrier separating them. Loki found his feet beneath him and bolted towards the keep. One of the men skidded in front of him. A swift heel turn showed him that the other blocked any path deeper into the gardens.

He had only enough time to think of summoning a dagger (which wouldn’t have done much good anyways, he’d been distracted of late in his lessons with the Valkyrie) before the Vanir who had spoke grabbed him around the chest and hoisted him into the air, pinning his hands at his sides.

“Let go!” Loki’s mind raced through what spells he knew as he kicked at the man. 

But a knife at his throat stilled him, save his pounding heart. “Stop squirming. As long as your king keeps his head you’ll keep yours.” The Vanir’s companions closed in around them, similar blades drawn.

“This won’t end the way you want it to.” As the Vanir spun him around Loki could see civilians scatter into their homes. He had to hope at least someone would run for help. Until then, he could stall. “This is about the Frost Giants? Really? What have I got to do with that?” He had quite a bit to do with it, of course. But they didn’t need to know that.

The question earned a scoff. “You Asgardians were always so used to doing whatever you wanted because no one could stop you. But not anymore. If we lay down and let you bring the Jotnar back to power, what’ll be next? You decide that squatting in one realm isn’t good enough and you need another? Or that the Frost Giants,” he spat on the ground, “should get some of our land as recompense. Or- or maybe your king will bring that conquering witch he destroyed his realm for back like he did you! Asgardian arrogance has only ever hurt us.”

“Asgard has changed.” Loki did his best to keep a cool veneer over the anger that bubbled within. “It’s not like that anymore.”

“What do you know?” The knife’s edge pricked vulnerable skin and left Loki’s eyes watering. “You’re just a kid, Asgard ruled over us for thousands of years!”

Clouds began to darken the sky above them as Loki settled on a plan. “I can’t change the past, all that’s left is to try to do what’s right in the present.” His hypocrite’s tongue stung like the knife at his throat. “Now, if you set me down you might just survive this.”

“We’re not afraid of Asgard any more.” Stubbornly, the Vanir’s grip on him tightened.

“It’s not Asgard you should be afraid of.” Loki warned as thunder rumbled overhead.

The sky opened and rain crashed down upon them in vicious sheets as Thor emerged from the longhouse, a golden, glorious beacon that shone through the grey torrents. He closed in upon them as the weather raged.

But the Vanir ignored it, standing tall. Loki would have been impressed had he not had the tip of a knife dug into his throat. “King of Asgard, we will not stand idly—” Interrupting whatever grand speech the Vanir had planned, Loki bit down on his hand. He yelped and, out of pain or shock, dropped Loki to the mud.

Before Loki even hit the mud he focused his will into a facsimile of himself, who bolted towards Thor.

As he’d hoped, in the confusion of seeing a second Loki, the Vanir stumbled back and away from his real self, which gave Loki the time to scramble through the mud away from his prospective captor. He made it no more than a few splashes before he felt the atmosphere crack and groan and, to protect himself, he threw his hands over his head as vicious electricity roared from the heavens. It struck the ground with such force that the earth shook and groaned.

When the lightning abated, Loki gathered the courage to look back towards the Vanir who had held him. Nothing but charred grass, already turned to pulp by the torrential rain, remained. He stared at the dark spot, feeling slightly ill. 

Thor came to stand beside him as the rain let up. “Did they hurt you?” When Loki met his eyes it became clear his concern was tempered by some only half hidden emotion. Still, he held out a hand.

Which Loki took and was pulled to his feet. He ran a hand around his stinging neck and came away with a fine rivulet of blood. “Not terribly. But I don’t think they intended to.” A sweep over the gardens revealed the fate of the other Vanir, thankfully in the custody of their brethren and not reduced to ash.

“Then he shouldn’t have put a  _ knife  _ to your  _ throat _ .” Thor’s temper, usually well controlled, bubbled at the surface. “Besides, I swore to not let any harm come to you.” His gaze was dark as he centered on the charred grass. “I stand by that.”

Loki looked past Thor and winced at the incoming procession. “I hope the Vanir see it that way.”

With a sigh Thor turned and straightened, readying himself to face Agathe and her people. Heimdall, a few paces behind her, served as little reassurance.

In standing she was only more intimidating. Despite her age she stood only a head below Thor, her posture unhumbled by time. She swept sharp eyes over the scene. Then turned to her gathered citizens who huddled at the stone fence and watched the proceedings with various, guarded emotions. “I think it's best,” to Loki’s relief there was no fury in her. “If you take your leave.”

Hiemdall returned to their side and exchanged a silent look with Thor, who nodded. “I think so too. I hope this doesn’t cloud the future of our people.”

Agathe didn’t immediately answer and again looked over the gathered crowd, their eyes fixed upon the Asgardians in their midst. “That remains to be seen. Know that I do not condone the injury of children in this, no matter how hot our tempers may run. But perhaps this gives you some understanding, Thor, King of Asgard, of how my people feel about what you’ve done.”

“I believe it has.” Though Thor sounded no more ready to bend his morals for them. This time, as he adjusted his grip on Stormbreaker, Thor did not take Loki’s hand. So instead Loki clung to his cape as the Bifrost swallowed them.

It wasn’t until they touched the stone of new Asgard that Thor reached out, catching Loki by the wrist as he tried to separate himself. “Wait, Loki, we’re not through.”

The words landed heavily upon Loki, whose mouth decided at that moment to turn into a desert. “We- we’re not?” He couldn’t help but stammer.

Heimdall, free of the vice grip Loki found himself in, didn’t ask any questions but did raise an eyebrow at Loki.

All Loki could do was shrug back at him, make believe that he didn’t know what had caused this. Because maybe his first guess was wrong and if he didn’t speak it it wouldn’t come to be. 

“Then I shall return to my duties.” Loki couldn’t help but feel envious as he watched Heimdall depart.

“Hold on to me.” Thor said and Loki did so, had been doing so all his short life. And the Bifrost took them again. 

In the screeching light Loki tried to calm his nerves.

But his mind raced with the thousand colors. He was sure he knew what this was about. Thor had seen him know something he shouldn’t. Not for the first time. Not even the second. Nor the third. Perhaps it had been one too many. He could try to explain it away but he knew he shouldn’t, that it wasn’t right. More than anything he wanted to flee. To turn from Thor and take off running and never look back. He couldn’t, of course, not only had Thor thoroughly trapped him but so had his conscience.

All he wanted was to do what was right. Yet in pursuit of it he’d stumbled into this quagmire. And now he was sinking.

The first thing he noticed when they reached solid ground was the taste of salt in the air. As the colors of the Bifrost gave way, the sea unfolded before him, the grey horizon a long and uneven line that stretched out far below their grassy cliff. The clouds began to match the shade of the sea, as if anticipating Thor’s soon to be unearthed grief.

Thor, finally releasing him, regarded him with concern. “Are you well?”

His question came as a shock. “I- what?” 

“You’re restless. You’re not sleeping, it’s obvious. When was the last time you had a proper night’s rest?”

“I- sleep.” Loki shuffled in the grass. This was not the conflict he’d been preparing himself for. “Perhaps not always through the night… But can you expect me to? I just. I want to keep busy.” Even if it was only a vague honesty, it relieved some of the weight upon him.

But he wasn’t sure that was worth Thor’s frown.

“I’m fine, really.” But he knew otherwise. His conscious scrabbled like a rat, gnawing away at him whenever his mind slowed enough for it to catch up. “Sleep is the least of my worries.”

“That’s what I feared.” Thor sighed, leaving Loki feeling worse than before. He fell silent for a few long seconds and turned from Loki to watch the waves roil in the sea below them. “You don’t know this place.” 

“No.” Loki answered him like it was a question, though he knew it wasn’t.

Thor nodded, still not facing Loki. “Because you aren’t the Loki that was. You’re your own person.”

“Yes.” Loki wrung his hands, too nervous to approach his brother. As if standing at a distance would protect him. He steeled himself for what was to come.

“I believe that. I believe you. You’re Loki, my brother, and you are your own.” Thor’s tight shoulders sagged. “How is it, then, that you know his spells?”  _ He  _ stood between them, again, as Thor turned to face him.

Whatever efforts Loki made, they failed as Thor’s blue eye pierced through him. “I, well. That’s…”

“Please, brother, tell me the truth. Have I not earned it?”

“You won’t like it.” Loki murmured at his feet.

“I don’t like being lied to either.”

Perhaps if he started with the easier truth it would soften the blow of the full truth. He could only hope. “You want to know how I learned that spell? You’re right to remember that I am not him. That remains ever the truth. But the relics I brought back from my time with the Guardians. Well,” he inhaled sharply. “Within the Book of the Vishanti was something more.” He waited for the confusion to come.

It showed in Thor’s furrowed brow. “But I had that inspected. All seemed in order.”

“By the time it came to you, certainly it was.”

More of Thor’s curiosity turned to concern. The scales were tipped dangerously and not to Loki’s favor. “What did you do?”

The accusation, however warranted, chafed. “All the spells that were initially found within it were returned to Asgard. The book was left as its creators made it. However,” He grimaced. “There were other spells added to it. Those, I took.”

“You took-  _ Loki! _ What right did you have to them?”

“More than most!” Loki’s cheeks burned. “They were written by my former self.” Thor’s outrage evaporated into a shocked silence. “Before the Loki who was…” Loki cringed. “Died, he transcribed what spells he knew and added those pages to the book. I think he did it to secure his knowledge for the future Asgard. I’ve been reading. Learning.” He paused, acutely aware he was running out of the less uncomfortable truths he had to tell. “So… that’s how I know these spells. I only recently succeeded in duplicating myself. What you saw was the best one I’d done yet.”

Unfortunately, Thor didn’t take much time to be impressed. His mismatched eyes darted. “I want to see this. I…” Fixing his gaze on Loki again, his eyes narrowed. Loki’s answer had clearly only brought him more questions. “That’s not the end of the story. I don’t believe you’d hide these notes from me if it were. And.” Thor grimaced. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Unable to contain his anxiety to his fidgeting hands any longer, Loki started to pace. If only Ikol had taught him a way to disappear. It was in his notes, somewhere, surely. Pity he hadn’t found it yet. “I wish I could say I knew a better way. But I couldn’t. And I can’t now either.” He sniffled. “I’m doing it again. A Loki disappointing Thor.” Was this what his former had felt? Like he’d been caught in a trap of his own making, doomed to repeat a miserable cycle.

“Loki, look at me.” Thor commanded. Loki snapped to attention but where he expected to find stern disappointment he instead saw a furrowed, sympathetic brow. It was almost unbearable. “Please, just tell me what you’ve done. It’s causing you anguish, if you just tell me it might relieve your conscience.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” But there was no time left to stall. So he took a deep breath and began, speaking in quickly, as if hoping Thor might mishear him. “You remember when I broke into Stark’s tower? I never gave you the true reason. I went there searching for an answer to myself. I found it, well, I thought I did. He led me into space. To the relics. Away from you. Because he was selfish” Loki flushed. “Like me.” His boots kicked up mud as he paced a rut into the grass.

“You’re speaking in circles and vaugities. Who did you find?” Despite Thor’s professed confusion, Loki could see him coming to a conclusion he didn’t like. “Loki.” He demanded when no answer came.

“Loki,” he repeated. And when Thor’s brow furrowed, he grit his teeth and through them managed his explanation. “I found Loki. The… first one.” Thor started, his furrow easing to a horrible, blank look. With no response, Loki plowed on. “He was in my head, I think. Or some remnant of him was. We struck a deal and he took a place by my side. He was the one to tell me of the relics. It was him who gifted me his spells.”

Thor stared without seeing. 

A wind had picked up. It stirred the silence. But not enough, Loki needed something, any reaction would be better than this. It was like Thor was looking through him. “Thor!” He finally broke and flinched at how high his voice had become. “Say something, please.” Now he was the one begging.

“What do you mean,  _ ‘by your side?’” _ Thor sounded terribly calm. 

Without once looking at the thing he created, Loki pictured in his mind a familiar little simulacrum. He felt it’s birdy body swoop from his hands into the grey sky. 

Instead he watched Thor, who’s eyes followed the magpie. “You- never had a bird.”

“He was there. You couldn’t see him.”

So that’s what it looked like to break his brother’s heart.

The wind tugged at Loki’s tunic as if it wanted to drag him away, somewhere off the cliff’s edge.  _ “Was?” _ Thor breathed, his mismatched eyes flicking back to Loki.

This was, somehow, worse. Loki bit the inside of his cheek, he wasn’t sure when, but someone had most surely switched the air with honey. With every breath he drowned. “What was left of him faded from this world months ago.” The voice that came from him was distant. If only he could be a stranger, that would make this easier. “He seemed to accept it.” It was a limp sentiment.

He’d stabbed Thor, though he was sure he held no blade. Nevertheless, his brother stumbled back, his air leaving him. The tempest rustled Thor’s short hair as a thousand questions swirled, unspoken, in the air. “Months- but you came back with the Guardians... How long was he-” Some horrible anguish cracked the sky open. Rain fell in sorrowful sheets, soaking the both of them. “Loki spent his last months in this-” Thor gestured towards the sky, though the magpie had long since evaporated. Then Thor sharpened. “You never told me. Were you ever going to?”

“I- yes. I meant to. Eventually… I just didn’t know how.” But he shrunk at Thor’s frown. “I thought… I’d lose you.” Loki’s voice was small.

Thor’s eyes fluttered closed. “I never said goodbye. I never… Damn it all.” Old regrets choked the words from him. “Loki, he was my  _ brother.” _ When his eyes opened again they searched Loki for some understanding.

“I know.” Loki stared at his hands. “In the diner after I returned. What you said, he was there. He heard it all.”

“That doesn’t-” Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. He went still, face obscured, for what felt like ages. When he opened himself again to Loki he stood stiffly.

Loki tried again. “I’m truly sorry. But, brother, I think he knew-”

“What do you know?” Thor snapped, his temper hot and quick as lightning. Loki shrank against its heat. “You’re not him.” He grimaced and turned his head towards the sea. The rain battered them. “We should go.”

Loki couldn’t approach him. The grass between them whipped without sense and stood as an impassable chasm.

So Thor, great, sorrowful Thor, his brother who he coveted, crossed it in a stride. If he deigned a look Loki’s way, Loki wouldn’t have known.

He barely saw the grass, or the Bifrost as it took them. He saw only the dark space where he’d first found his former self. The licking green flames. Loki’s looming figure. His own mistakes. 

If only he’d denied his former’s request. If only he’d turned his back. If only he’d swallowed his pride. If only he’d pushed Ikol. Thor was surely right. He would’ve wanted some closure. A final conversation. Not that they could have had one. Not without a mediator. And Loki would have only been an intruder. Maybe they could have devised a spell. Maybe they could have brought in Mantis. But no, then there would be two intruders, one for each brother.

He was filled with what ifs and maybes. Each held their own regrets. He should’ve. He could’ve. Maybe. Or maybe not. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t. So now he’d never know.

His feet touched stone and he stumbled. In the moments it took to right himself Thor hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. 

Loki had to take the chance. It took all the will he had not to turn to stone. “Thor?” He all but whispered and turned, with excruciating slowness, to his brother.

Thor, soaked through, studied the horizon. The sun was setting, splashing gold across spare but rapidly darkening clouds. “I want to see his notes.” He finally said, voice low and numb.

“Naturally,” Loki squeaked.

By the time Loki led them to his quarters, rain lashed across the plains. He could hear the wind groaning mournfully against the protective spells that bubbled his balcony.

The seconds it took him to retrieve Ikol’s notes from under his bed stretched into ages and in the few he had alone with himself in the dark he squeezed his eyes shut. But he couldn’t even manage tears.

The book passed hands wordlessly, the silence too vast to breach. Though he felt he shouldn’t, Loki watched his brother’s revenant inspection. Thor’s hands ghosted the lines of his brother’s pen. So delicate was he with them, like he feared they’d disintegrate before his very eyes and he’d be left with nothing. Again. He couldn’t have understood the coded gibberish, still, he took time with each page, occasionally breaking into a small smile in places Loki knew there were diagrams and drawings, all of them sketched with a careful and precise hand. 

Without words, Loki stood vigil. An outsider in his own room. 

Finally, Thor shut the book. His hand lingered on its cover, which made it look nothing more than a manual for ship maintenance, and Loki thought he saw amusement. When his goodbye had run its course he held out the journal, still wordless. Loki took it gingerly and held it at a distance. Shifting a titanic weight from his shoulders, Thor sighed heavily and nodded at Loki. “I’m glad to have seen this.” Though he didn’t sound it. “Goodnight, Loki. Please try to get some sleep.” With nothing more, he departed.

The door slid shut and they were alone, separated by thicker things than stone. Outside, the sky mourned the words that had gone unspoken.

Numb, Loki deposited Ikol’s gift on his bed. For a time he did nothing more than pace. Too weary to think, to cry, to search for some solution when he wasn’t sure one existed. 

Eventually, he sought out the Guardians. He cradled their communicator in both hands and hesitated with his finger over the button that would connect him to his friends. Then he stopped to think. They’d said to come to them if he ever needed it. And he had, in the past, but never for something like this.

And what would they say? Doubts pestered him. What could they do? He wasn’t in the mood to be coddled. Nor pitied. 

With ideas of sickly sympathy, he set aside the communicator. Though it didn’t go far, only the edge of his bed. It sat there with the hope that he might come around and try again.

Contrary to Thor’s wishes, Loki didn’t sleep that night. He tried, for Thor’s sake. But he could hardly close his eyes without unwanted thoughts piling up and buzzing through him. So he threw himself into study and mastery. He repeated every spell he knew a dozen times, and then did them again for good measure. He tried new spells too, ones he had only half knowledge of, throwing caution to the wind. For better or worse, he survived the attempts long enough to see dim light begin to creep through his closed curtains.

Rising from where he’d eventually settled on the floor, legs neatly tucked beneath him, Loki hazarded a peek through them. The storm had settled and now the sun shone past a hazy horizon, still half full with heavy clouds.

Same as always, the falconers dutifully trained with their birds.


End file.
